Backfire
by Irken Gir
Summary: Balance is essential in the universe. Wishes are imbalanced: overloading them on the Leyline causes backfire. Two assassins meet with Gene and Jim by chance. Together they try to help return the balance.
1. A Philosophy

**Backfire. A Philosophy.**

Wishes are tricky things. When is a wish is granted, the universe becomes unbalanced. The imbalance causes chaos; thus, the universe has a funny way of always returning balance to itself by causing its own "wishes" to come true: if a "pure" wish is granted, then a chaotic wish is made to counter it. Conversely, if a chaotic with is granted, a "pure" wish counters it.

Everything in the universe has an alignment. Whether it be chaotic or good, that alignment ruled that being. There are two exceptions to this rule, and two alone: The Galactic Leyline is said to be made of purely neutral energy, as it is the source of the chaos and the peace in the universe. The Maiden of the Leyline is made from the Leyline's wishes to preserve this balance.

When she Maiden is not in place in the Leyline, this balance is not kept naturally, and the Leyline is left to its own devices; this can sometimes throw the balance off for temporary periods as it fights to adjust the universe's balances.

But the Leyline has always existed, and it has always served its purpose—only rarely has it failed to function exactly as it is supposed to; the only thing that can throw the Leyline off is these wishes.

When Gene Starwind, the Kei Pirates, and Gwen Khan all made their wishes, the Leyline was overloaded, and struggled to maintain its balance. For a while, it succeeded, but it eventually slipped down into a state of chaos.

These principles have been known for ages—even terrans of Old Earth knew these laws to be true, but they have since dwindled into fairy tales, or the bases for games and novels. These laws are not myth, as many believe them to be; this latest dip into the chaotic side will perhaps convince more people, of all races, of their reality.


	2. A Career

**Backfire. A Career.**

Hitomi Toratora was eternally grateful for the life she had growing up. Of course, like any eighteen-year-old, she could pick a few things she wished hadn't happened, or that she would have done differently, but overall, she was raised pleasantly, and she enjoyed how she lived.

She wasn't sure why, but mulling over her own good life as she drove her sword, which was a unique cross between a scimitar and a katana and designed to slice through her own Ctarl Ctarl flesh with relative ease, into a job's belly, made her feel good. Or their head, or their neck, or their back—it didn't matter where she penetrated them, just that she did it at all.

The man, a serial rapist and animal abuser, cried out as Hitomi twisted her blade into his soft Terran skin. Kneeling beside him, licking a few splashes of his blood from her lips, she leaned close, her voice coming out as a soft hiss. "That last woman, she was a fighter, wasn't she?" she asked, caressing his cheek. The man whimpered and struggled to get away from the slender, athletic girl, but the sword held him secure. Hitomi glanced down at the pool of blood quickly spilling from his body.

"She found your name, and she hired me. She wanted me to tell her how you _screamed _as you died…like she screamed as you held her down and raped her. How many times was it?" With that, Hitomi gripped his face with enough force to crack his jaw. He moaned in agony. "I'd like an answer, please," she purred, pulling away from him.

She frowned; the blood was spilling from him in a way that it was approaching her; while she wore nothing over her tight green t-shirt, which bore the initials "M S I," that would touch the sticky liquid, her long, too-baggy pants would glide right through it if she got any closer. She liked those pants, even if they were a dark enough blue that the red wouldn't show.

"Answer," she reminded him, then gripped the hilt of her sword and ripped it from his body. He could only voice his pain through another scream, but Hitomi still insisted on getting her information. "Let me help you," she suggested, wiping the blood from her sword on his pants—those were the only articles of clothing on the man that were relatively dry. "Did you rape her once?" The man whimpered, tears spilling over his eyelids. He shook his head slowly, watching her.

"No, you didn't. Did you rape her twice?" she continued, circling him, sliding her sword back into its sheath, which was strapped securely to her left thigh. Again he shook his head. "No. Was it three times?" A pause, then a shake of the head. "No. You did it seven times, didn't you?"

The man let out a chilling sob and nodded, then tried to get up. Hitomi grinned, a low growl sounding in her throat. While the teenaged assassin was normally docile, and had a confused look to her, she now had a fiery intensity in her eyes, indicating all her attention was on this man, and nothing short of heavy fire would change that.

"Then I suppose I'll have to kill you seven times over," she purred. She pounced on him then, tearing at his flesh with claws, snarling her pleasure, and breaking any bone she could get her hands on.

- -

Hitomi Toratora licked an ice cream cone—chocolate chip cookie dough with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles—as she took a late train home. Though she had a sword in her lap, and her dark purple hair was mussed (though it was pulled into a sloppy braid, all of her movement earlier had loosened parts of hair), no one bothered her.

Perhaps it was the ice cream, and perhaps it was the pure bliss in her green eyes and in her smile, but Hitomi didn't dwell on those details. Owning swords in this part of Sentinal III wasn't very uncommon, so perhaps the other passengers suspected that she was bringing home a trophy sword to hang in her room.

Hitomi's stop came, and she left the train, carrying her sword as she licked her ice cream, walking the rest of the way home from the station. She got to the front door just before one o'clock in the morning, yawning, and heard Mikoto in the living area, watching the television. "Hey, you," the older, blue-haired Ctarl greeted.

"Hey." The younger girl yawned again, finished her ice cream, and joined her best friend on the couch. "What'chya watchin'?" she asked, unlacing her combat boots and kicking them off.

"Just flipping around," Mikoto replied. "It's just porn and commercials, I think." Mikoto paused for a moment on one commercial with a tanned redhead with scars on his face and arms. He was telling his viewers to come down to Starwing and Hawkins, or something like that, if they needed repairs.

"He's ugly," Hitomi commented, frowning.

"He's alright, I guess," Mikoto replied, shrugging lazily. "You get your money?" she asked, nudging Hitomi.

"No; the woman said to come by in the afternoon and get it. She'll be busy until then, with work and a meeting or something tonight. She's paranoid, and wants an alibi."

"Makes sense," Mikoto offered, ruffling her friend's hair. "Well, I'm bored. I'm gonna head to bed. You comin'?" she asked.

"In a bit, I guess," she answered, stretching out.

"'Kay. Just don't stay up too late," Mikoto ordered, her red eyes taking on a look of seriousness that Hitomi had learned to associate with Mikoto's "sister-mode."

"I won't."

"Good. 'Night."

Hitomi waved and cuddled into the couch, swinging her feet up into Mikoto's previous spot. She blinked lazily and resumed channel surfing where the other girl had left off. When she grew bored, she turned off the television, took her sword, and padded into her bedroom.

Though the Ctarl's room was messy, it was exactly how she liked it. Her clothes were in one pile, books and magazines in another, and everything else she needed or wanted placed within the mess just where she wanted it. She put her sword in the hidden side of her bureau, changed into pajamas, and put on one of her favorite albums: _Take a Look in the Mirror_ by an Old Earth band called Korn. Most people said it was stupid for her to be listening to such old music, and that it was bad anyway, but Hitomi thought it was fun, and in the rare occasions that she grew emotional about her career, Korn's lyrics could help her cope.

On her bed, Little Moose, the moose plush Hitomi had owned since she was little, sat against her pillows, waiting for her. Nuzzling her face into the moose's soft fur (careful, as always, to avoid catching her nose stud or the studs in her lip which made up her snakebites on his fabrics), she pulled the covers over her head, yawned, and pulled Little Moose close to her body.

She fell asleep not long after, snoring and twitching with her dreams, her arms still wrapped around Little Moose.

- -

The assassin didn't wake up until nearly noon. After dragging herself out from under the covers and tucking Little Moose back into a comfortable spot, Hitomi dug out a clean towel from her pile and padded to the bathroom, stripping as she walked. Mikoto looked up from her magazine in the other room just enough to catch the dark red Chinese dragon tattoo on Hitomi's naked back disappear behind the door. She rolled her eyes, turned the page in the magazine, and chewed her fingertip.

She always thought Hitomi was interesting, from the time she took her in, and probably always _would_ think that the little insane Ctarl was interesting. And, as an assassin herself at the age of twenty-five, she had seen many interesting people. But she liked Hitomi's level of interesting. Even when she parted from the Guys, her small group of street- and tournament-fighters, she had Hitomi to entertain her and keep her company.

Plus, Hitomi always had neat tattoos and piercings. The dragon was her favorite, but Hitomi also had matching purple paw prints on her upper arms. As for body jewelry, the younger Ctarl had her nose and lip rings, and numerous rings in her sensitive ears, including one gauged ring that was just wide enough to see through. Mikoto had an interest in body modification, but didn't have anything herself.

The closest things she had were the dark stripes on both cheeks: her unique markings as a Ctarl. Hitomi had dark purple triangles on her right eye, but no one ever saw them; Hitomi's bangs were too thick and too long for anyone to see much of her eyes, let alone the markings around them. It was a wonder the littler girl could see out of them, but she managed somehow.

Mikoto turned another page of her magazine as Hitomi shut the water off, and sampled a Terran perfume as Hitomi wrung her hair, which fell to her lower-back. Mikoto's was longer, so the sound of the water slamming into the shower bottom was all-too-familiar.

Hitomi emerged shortly afterwards, her damp tail swaying against her thighs under the towel. "When do you plan on getting to that woman's house?" Mikoto called over her magazine.

"I dunno. She didn't give me a specific time, so I figure I can just go around three?" The blue-haired Ctarl nodded and went back to reading, letting Hitomi slip back into her bedroom to pull on clothes.

Three o'clock came by rather quickly, and Hitomi managed to take busses to her destination. As instructed, she had slipped past the neighboring homes and entered the client's home through a small window in the attic. Her Ctarl eyes adjusted quickly to the lighting changes as she moved to the stairs to the main house.

She didn't call for the client, also as instructed, to keep nosey neighbors from focusing their attention on the house. The client, whose name Hitomi refused to learn as a rule, had a particularly curious old woman a few doors down that made the neighborhood's business her business. After slinking around the main floors silently, Hitomi found the client throwing back shots of whiskey in the kitchen.

Hitomi couldn't tell if her eyes were wet from drinking, or crying. "I…I don't know why, but I guess I didn't really expect him to be _dead,_" she whispered. A newspaper lay on the counter in front of her. Seeing her reaction stirred Hitomi's emotions a little, but not enough to crack her bored, calm expression. "I guess it didn't sink in until I saw the photographs," she continued. "All of his bones from the waist up broken…his face completely mauled. They couldn't go by dental records; the newspaper said most of his teeth were either completely missing, or in his stomach," the woman said, shuddering.

She sat, looking a little pale, as though she might be sick. Hitomi said nothing, but stood her ground. "I don't know how you can do this as a career; I've just read about him in the paper, and I'm sick to my _stomach _thinking that I had this man murdered. He raped me, and I will always hate him for that, and it will always change me, but I killed him." She let out a shuddering sigh and a sob.

"Your money is in that drawer," she moaned, pouring another glass of the amber liquid. Hitomi opened it, took the unmarked envelope, slipped it into her pocket, and left.


	3. A Monetary Issue

**Backfire. A Monetary Issue.**

Hitomi Toratora hated clubs. Absolutely hated them.

She hated the stink of the beer, the sweaty people dancing, the cigarettes (even though she smoked herself), and the smells of sex that her sensitive nose picked up and amplified.

She did, admittedly, enjoy watching people with piercings and tattoos, and didn't mind people asking about her paw prints or her dragon, and she liked comparing piercings. But that was all she liked.

She couldn't dance as she wanted; people bumped into her; it was hot; it smelled; her sensitive ears didn't appreciate the rock-concert-equivalent noise; people annoyed her; it was crowded; it _really_ smelled; the drinks were bad; people grabbed her tail.

Oh, how she hated clubs.

But Mikoto Maramara kidnapped Hitomi regularly and made her come. What a bitch.

Hitomi, renown assassin, sociopath, and all-around badass, was sitting in a corner on the outside balcony, a drink in one hand and a cigarette dangling loosely between her index finger and middle finger of the other. She was pouting. She was bored.

She couldn't go home because Mikoto had the car keys. So there she sat, listening to the music and watching a young couple making out on the other side of the balcony. She brought the cigarette to her mouth, inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly, letting the cigarette dangle between her lips. It was a gorgeous night. She would love to be out, following her prey, listening to his screams. But she didn't have a job.

She was just replacing the cigarette with her drink, the plastic of the cup brushing against her snakebites gently, when a young boy with blonde hair and intelligent blue eyes wandered out from the club, and leaned against the concrete-and-steel railing. Hitomi looked up at him, watching him pant and brush sweat from his neck and temples. _He's flushed,_ she thought, _like he's been dancing._

She replaced the cigarette. The blonde boy looked at her, curiosity shining on his features. "Hi," he panted out, smiling.

"Hey," she answered, her own lips twitching. "You look too young to be in here," she said; it wasn't an accusation, but rather an implied question.

"I kind of am, I guess. I'm only fifteen," he admitted sheepishly. Hitomi shrugged.

"So you're a year off."

"Three months," he corrected, a hint of pride entering his voice.

The Ctarl smiled and stood up, noting with amusement how she towered over him. He was short, but she thought the way his awkward limbs were growing that he promised to have a long, lean body once he started his growth spurts. "Sixteen's a fun year," she purred, taking a final drag of her cigarette before crushing it beneath her boot. "What's your name, little man?" she asked, sitting on the railing.

"Jim. Everyone says sixteen is great, but I doubt it'll be any different from fifteen."

Hitomi grinned. "It is. Trust me." Almost without thinking, she reached out and ruffled his hair. He cocked his head and gently pushed her hand away, gazing past her curtain of bangs into her bright green eyes. "What's the matter, little man?"

Jim shrugged. "A friend of mine, another Ctarl, does that to me."

"Well, clearly you have good taste in friends," she teased. Jim grinned, and wiped his face with his shirt to rid it of sweat; as he did, he exposed a thin stomach that had a hint of baby fat that was quickly dissolving. She noticed that there were a few freckles spattered across his pale skin. "You look like you've been dancing." She debated whether or not she wanted another cigarette. She decided she didn't yet.

"No, not really." He blushed. "My friend was trying to teach me how," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Everyone has to learn eventually," Hitomi said, smiling warmly.

"Hitomi!" The assassin looked towards the door and saw Mikoto. "Let's go; we have a job."

" 'Kay." The younger Ctarl ruffled her young blonde's hair. "Later, little man."

"Later."

- -

"Shit!" Mikoto had her knives out, their leather sheaths still belted to her thighs, a pretty and ornate blue against her black leather skirt and fishnet tights. She nearly tore her electric blue hair from her face and regripped her knives, peeking out from behind the destroyed pillar of her prey's high-end apartment.

The woman was a model who decided to try to break into politics, and her beauty and popularity had somehow pushed her up in the polls. Her legitimate opponent wasn't pleased with this.

But Jane Halloway, the runway model, seemed to expect attempts on her own life, and had invested in a caster. By now, Mikoto assumed that the damage would cost over 1 million wong. "You bitch!" Jane Halloway yelled. "You think I can't defend myself?"

"No," Mikoto replied, tensing up before leaping over the fallen pillar. Jane reloaded the caster and aimed for the Ctarl, but Mikoto risked losing a weapon, throwing her knife with deadly accuracy at her shoulder, hoping to at least injure her trigger arm enough to disable it, if not sever the tendons holding the arm in place.

Before the knife hit, the assassin rolled behind an upturned, demolished sofa. Her ears picked up the soft _thud _of metal entering flesh and bone, followed by a sharp scream. "You whore!" Jane screeched. "My fucking arm!"

Mikoto grinned and again looked around the couch. The knife had hit its mark, and blood was pouring over the blade and down her now-limp arm. The model was trying her best to tear the knife from her dead arm, but only managed to wedge it in further as it sliced and tore at her tendons. "Shit!" she cried, more desperate now, as her only defense was lying harmlessly on the plaster-covered carpet.

The Ctarl smirked in pleasure as she jumped from her cover and readied her knife to slice the woman's throat wide open. She gripped it firmly and snarled in the back of her throat, her boot-clad feet carrying her with amazing agility over debris of furniture and plaster from walls and ceilings. The model was frozen in front of the grinning, snarling Ctarl. She didn't even utter a sound as Mikoto tore the knife from her shoulder and opened her throat in one fluid motion.

Blood sprayed a few times as Jane collapsed backwards, her famous aqua eyes still wide in fear. Mikoto lapped gently at her knives, tasting Jane's blood with a quiet purr. She hoped Jane was still alive enough to see her.

Mikoto wiped her knives clean, further soiling Jane Halloway's designer tank top. Once they were back against her thighs, snug in their sheaths, she stretched out and settled on one of the few chairs that had sustained minimal damage during the fight. She picked up a fashion magazine, shook off the layer of plaster dust, and began flipping through as she waited for Hitomi, who had agreed to go after the boyfriend; he had been naked, crying, and had wet himself. Because of what a pussy cuntmuffin (Hitomi's words) he was, she had parted her hair into two separate braids, which fell on either side of her head down to her mid-back. Mikoto had commented on how pretty she looked.

Once her hair was done to properly stay out of her face as she gave chase to the boyfriend, she had wandered around the apartment, cooing over the tropical fish (which Jane Halloway shot in an attempt to keep Hitomi at bay, even if the purple-haired Ctarl was nowhere near the model), gawking at paintings, and trying out various clothes from the model's closet, all to pass some time.

Mikoto decided to take home a few presents for Hitomi, including a skirt that had looked wonderful on her, and some fancy tops. Both Ctarl were pleasantly surprised that Jane's clothing had fit her.

She knew little Hitomi wouldn't let the boyfriend get too far, even if it was curious that neighbors weren't coming to see about the cursing, shooting, and yelling. Maybe it happened often in this complex; there were, after all, many famous faces living in this area of Sentinal III, and this was a well-to-do apartment with numerous beautiful people.

Just as Mikoto was tearing out a few pages from the magazine, thinking that perhaps she could give them to Hitomi to add to her wall of Pretty Things (the capitals were a _must_), she heard a loud metallic crash.

The Ctarl let a soft growl exit her throat, and she stood, stuffing the magazine pages into her cleavage for storage, and made her way to peek through the window, looking for the source of the sound.

There, across the street, was their plain, unremarkable car, crushed under the bloody body of Jane Halloway's boyfriend. Hitomi Toratora was already dragging his body from the wreak, swearing under her breath.

Mikoto Maramara stared for a moment, weeping on the inside.

- -

"How the hell did that happen?" Mikoto hissed, keeping her voice down to keep their cab driver from hearing. With the car ruined, they had called a cab and promised to have the car towed first thing in the morning to have it repaired.

"I don't know," Hitomi replied, her ears and eyes both drooping. "He was coming back to the apartment, and I…hit him too hard," she whispered, looking ashamed.

"How are you ladies doing?" the old Terran cab driver asked. His blue eyes sparkled under gray eyebrows in the rear-view mirror, and he smiled warmly. "Did you go out to those, um, clubs tonight?"

Hitomi was a fan of Terrans, everyone knew, but she especially adored the old ones. "Yes, sir. We were dancing," she explained, grinning at him.

"Oh, yes? Did you have fun? Find any attractive young lads?" he asked, chuckling fondly.

"He had fun, sir, yes, but we didn't find anyone," she purred, looking amused with her answer.

"Oh, well, that's alright," he said, winking at them playfully.

"Yes, sir."

Mikoto rolled her eyes a little and sat quietly for the remainder of the ride. She paid the man, Hitomi waved and said goodbye enthusiastically, and they entered the house with a loud sigh from Mikoto and a sound of amusement from Hitomi. "Well, he was nice."

"Shut up."

- -

It was noon when Mikoto Maramara dragged herself from bed, dressed only in some pajama pants and a bra, and wandered into the kitchen. Hitomi was making waffles. Hitomi's waffles always were delicious.

" 'Morning," the purple-haired Ctarl greeted. "Waffles?"

Mikoto grunted. "Coffee." Hitomi grabbed the coffee pot and poured the black liquid into Mikoto's favorite mug. She added a few spoons of sugar, stirred, and slid the mug to her. Mikoto sat and sipped her coffee as Hitomi finished piling waffles onto her plate.

"So I was looking through the ads, you know, for someone to fix the car, and I think I found someone."

Mikoto grunted.

"Remember that…kinda ugly guy on television? For, uhm, Starwing and Hawkins, or whatever?"

Mikoto grunted harder.

"I know, you thought he was alright looking, but I thought he was ugly. Oh, thanks for the magazines; I put them on the Pretty Things wall last night."

Another grunt.

"So, anyway, I looked them up, and they're supposed to fix 'everything from tractors to relationships,' " she quoted, sitting down at the table.

A harder grunt.

"I thought you could call them and ask if they'll fix the car," she finished.

Mikoto was silent for a while, finishing her coffee. Once it was all gone, and she was refilling her mug, she was awake enough to voice her thoughts: "I'll call them, fine. But you're coming with me, and I'm taking the costs from your pay when you get your money from last night."

Hitomi pouted. "Okay," she mumbled, her tone indicating that this was, in fact, _not _okay, but she said nothing in protest.

"You have the phone number?" Mikoto asked, sitting back down with her new cup of coffee. Hitomi handed it over. "I'll call them when I'm done with my coffee," she announced, still blinking sleepily.

- -

Mikoto Maramara was done her coffee within the next hour. She had Hitomi shower while she called the repair shop—apparently called Starwind and Hawking, and not Starwing and Hawkins, as they had originally thought—and made arraignments to have their car towed.

Mikoto didn't bother showering; she just pulled on some jeans, her boots, and a tight shirt with a silly picture of a sheep that she always liked. As an after thought, she pulled on her leather trench coat and waited for Hitomi to get dressed. The younger Ctarl was deciding between the tops that Mikoto had taken home for her.

When Hitomi finally came out, she had her hair in two braids as it had been the night before, and she had picked a pretty black top with silver lining. It not only had no sleeves, but it showed off just a hint of her stomach and a good amount of cleavage. It looked good on her. But little Hitomi had grabbed just another pair of snug jeans and her own combat boots to compliment it.

"Interesting outfit," Mikoto teased.

"Shut up. I think it looks neat," Hitomi countered. Mikoto shrugged.

"Well, come on. The tow truck is picking us up, and they'll take us to the shop."

- -

The ride in question had been very uncomfortable for both Ctarl. The greasy, smelly, balding Terran had been unable to keep his eyes off of their young, fit bodies. Hitomi told Mikoto later that she felt as though she needed to bathe in lye when they returned home. Mikoto didn't blame her.

"Here you are, ladies," the Terran announced as he pulled up to a rather plain warehouse-looking building. A yellow-rimmed red star with the names of the owners was painted above the front door.

"You're really smelly," Hitomi said as she slammed the door in his face, shuddering. Mikoto laughed and lead the smaller girl inside.

The inside of the building was a little cozier than either Ctarl had expected; the upper level had a daybed, and the first floor had a living room area, complete with rugs under the tables. After a moment, the redhead that was in the commercials and making a fool of himself waltzed in from a back room.

Almost instantly, his eyes traveled over their bodies, just as the tow truck driver's had, and he grinned. "Good afternoon, ladies," he started. "Welcome to Starwind and Hawking. You're here about the, um, demolished car, right?"

"Yes," Mikoto started, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. Hitomi was wandering, trying out various chairs and sofa cushions. "The car is out front," she continued.

"Alright," the redhead said, making his way to the window to peek at it. "Holy shit!" He turned around to look at them. "What happened?"

Without thinking, Hitomi answered this question: "A body fell on it."

The redhead blinked, stared at her, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, that seems like a one in a million chance, but I'm not asking any questions."

"Good," Mikoto mumbled, frowning over at Hitomi.

"Gene, we need to talk about all the money you've been wasting at bars!"

Hitomi turned when she heard a younger, somewhat familiar voice come from the back hall, where the redhead, Gene, was when they entered the building. There she was a pale, lanky blonde with intelligent blue eyes. "Jim!" she exclaimed, grinning at the boy.

"Hitomi?" he responded, staring at her. The Ctarl saw him blush a little, and noticed his eyes flick over her body (spending a little extra time on her breasts) so quickly that it seemed as though they took in her figure against his will.

"You know her?" Gene asked.

"I met her at the club last night," Jim said, not taking his eyes from the assassin. Hitomi grinned, stood from her sofa, and moved over to the young boy, ruffling his hair. There was a three-year difference in their ages, but Hitomi didn't mind. She considered him a friend regardless.

Gene laughed. "And you didn't want to go," he teased the blonde.

Mikoto snorted. "We were just talking about how much it would _cost_ to have our car fixed," she snapped.

Gene smiled in a way that could easily be mistaken as warm and kind. "Well, with that kind of damage, it'll cost a lot. I'll probably have to replace and rebuild the whole frame," he said, looking through the window again at their totaled car. "That could cost at least…three hundred thousand wong," he said, shrugging. "That's a little towards the cheap side, I think."

"Excuse me? Three hundred _thousand?_" Mikoto repeated.

"Yeah. It's not cheap, this kind of work," Gene replied. Even Hitomi knew that three hundred thousand was more than they had to spare on repairing cars. They could just buy a new one, of course, but that took time; especially when the prospective buyer is an infamous assassin wanted on a handful of planets. "But," Gene began, making both Ctarls' ears perk up.

"Yeah?"

"We could work something out," he continued, looking into Mikoto's red eyes. "I'll take you out for dinner, and I'll cut the price in half."

"What? Gene, we can't do that!" Jim yelled, finally looking away from Hitomi. "We don't have that kind of money!"

Gene waved him off. "Oh, come on. Who would pass up something like this?" he asked, winking at the younger boy. Jim frowned and crossed his arms, shaking his head and mumbling something about money, irresponsible, and leach.

"I would pass it up," Mikoto snapped, her hands balling into fists and her tail flicking in annoyance.

"You'd rather pay thee hundred thousand wong than go out to dinner with little old me?" Gene asked, opening his arms, as if getting a better look at his body would change the Ctarl's mind.

"Yes," she hissed.

"I'll go out with you," Hitomi said.

"What?" Both Gene and Mikoto stared at Hitomi, who was brushing her bangs from her face, exposing her eyes clearly to everyone.

"Sure; we can't spend that much," she started, looking at Mikoto. "And I could go for some sushi."

"Hmm," Gene started, looking Hitomi over again. "Looks like you have better taste than your friend."

Mikoto began to protest, but Hitomi spoke first, her expression the same absent stare that it almost always was: "I think you're kind of ugly, actually. I just want dinner."

Mikoto began laughing, Gene's jaw dropped, and Jim stared up at Ctarl, wondering what was wrong with her. "It's a deal," Mikoto said, thrusting her hand out at Gene. "You take Hitomi out for dinner, and we'll pay half of the original price."

For reasons unknown to both Jim and Gene, the redhead took Mikoto's hand and shook it limply.


	4. A Date

**Backfire. A Date.**

Hitomi Toratora was going on her first date at eighteen years old to save money for a car repair. If that didn't speak of how anti-social she was, Mikoto Maramara didn't know what would. Both Ctarl sat in the living area with Jim as they waited for Gene to shower and dress to a level of presentability. Before bathing, he had been greasy, a little smelly (but that might have just been Hitomi's Ctarl nose), and needed to brush his teeth.

It was…perhaps half an hour ago that Gene had left to pretty himself up. Hitomi had just brushed her hair and re-braided it. "I'm bored," Hitomi whined.

"Yeah," Jim agreed.

They sat for a moment more when Hitomi spoke up: "Dance with me, Jim."

"What?" Jim looked up at the Ctarl like she was insane. The fact that she was, indeed, insane made no difference, as this was not common knowledge.

"Everyone has to learn sometime," she reminded him. "So dance with me," she demanded, nudging him playfully.

Jim tried to protest, but the Ctarl just pulled him up and held him close. He blushed, closed his mouth, and waited for Hitomi to do…something. The Ctarl seemed to have a song picked out and playing in her head already, and her body was swaying slowly. She put her hands on his hips and guided him. "It's pretty easy, moving your body," she told him, gradually moving faster as he got used to their current pace. "Once you get used to moving your body in time to music, and you're more comfortable, you start to just move however," she explained.

She began to hum the tune to an old Earth song that came from the Middle East; she didn't know what it was called, but it was something she enjoyed dancing to. Jim, still blushing, closed his eyes and began to move more on his own. Hitomi kept her hands on his hips, her fingertips just barely touching his sides. As the Terran seemed to grow more comfortable with his situation, Hitomi let him go, watching him move a little awkwardly to her humming. At the same time, she began to dance herself.

Her hips began swiveling along to her hummed music, her feet moving only as she moved her hips in wider ranges, her hands moving from her belt loops to her waist to above her head and back again, all as she watched Jim, observing how he moved. Occasionally she'd get a little closer and guide him with her body, just enough to get him to move a little more or do something new.

"Jim! Are you trying to steal my date?" Hitomi tore her eyes from the young, blonde Terran, and looked up at the older redhead.

"He's more attractive than you, and less smelly," she said, still not letting any expression come to her face.

Gene grunted, then pulled on a jacket over his dress shirt. "Let's go," he said, offering his arm to Hitomi. She took it, hugging his arm for warmth.

-

" 'Evening, Nan," Gene said, smiling warmly at their waitress.

"Gene," she greeted, looking over Hitomi with a small sneer on her lips. "Follow me," she said, grabbing two menus and stalking off prettily towards the back of the restaurant, where the windows overlooked a small creek and some planted bamboo stalks. "I'll be back in a few minutes for your orders," she said, sniffing haughtily at Hitomi.

Gene pulled the Ctarl's chair out for her, and then plopped down in his own seat. "What do you want?" he asked, opening his menu.

"Salmon. Lots of salmon sushi, chocolate milk, and sake," Hitomi answered without even picking her menu up. Gene nodded.

"Fine. So…" he paused, looking for a conversational topic.

"Is that waitress always such a bitchtits?" she asked, leaning on the table with her arms folded under her breasts, pushing them out a little. Hitomi saw Gene's eyes drop to gaze at them immediately.

"Oh, she's only like that with pretty girls," Gene said. "She gets jealous when she sees girls prettier than she is. And you are; you're beautiful without needing to show off a lot of skin, or without caking on makeup."

Hitomi blushed and smiled at him. "Thanks," she murmured. Gene shrugged. Just then, a small Chinese girl came over, smiling, and offered them hot towels. Both outlaw and assassin accepted, rubbing the towels over their hands until they were warm and moist.

"What do you and your friend do?" Gene asked.

"You have your orders?" Nan asked, popping her gum loudly. "Or do you just want something to drink?"

Hitomi frowned at the popping gum, but said nothing, even as she did it again. "Salmon sushi, sake, and chocolate milk," Hitomi said. The gum popped again. Twice.

"I'll have the regular," Gene said.

"You want sake, Gene?" Nan asked. She popped her gum yet again.

"If you don't stop popping your gum," Hitomi started, looking up at Nan through her bangs, "I will break you."

Nan recoiled, made a disgusted snort, and walked off. Gene raised an eyebrow at the Ctarl. "What was that?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. Hitomi shrugged. Nan came back a minute later, putting down their glasses, and a clay pitcher of sake. She said nothing, and didn't seem to have her gum anymore.

She walked off, leaving Hitomi and Gene by themselves again. Hitomi sipped at her sake, then started at her chocolate milk.

They sat in comfortable silence until their sushi came; Hitomi began to nearly devour hers, piling on the wasabe and soy. Gene just picked at his teriyaki chicken, watching her with amusement. He had lived with Aisha Clanclan for years, but watching a Ctarl eat would never cease to amuse him.

"So what do you and your friend do?" he asked again.

Almost as if on cue, there came a scream from the other side of the restaurant. Gene growled, always expecting the worst. Hitomi didn't react at all. She was still eating. The redheaded outlaw looked towards the screaming woman, scanning the area for any possible offenders.

"Mouse!" the woman shrieked. Gene paused momentarily, then scoffed and settled back down. Hitomi finished her sushi, laughed in amusement, and finished her chocolate milk.

"That was amazingly disappointing," the Ctarl said, sitting back in her chair. Even her Ctarl appetite was thoroughly satisfied with raw fish and rice, and it had been some of the best sushi she had had in a while. Gene finished eating, joined Hitomi in sitting back, and stretched out.

"You feel like going for a walk?" Gene asked. Hitomi shrugged.

"Sure. Why not?" she said, tapping her feet.

-

After the check was paid, and Hitomi had asked Gene for his jacket to keep away the night chill, assassin and outlaw found themselves in a small park not too far from the restaurant. "It's nice out, huh?" Gene asked.

Hitomi smiled, letting out a soft purr. "Gorgeous," she breathed. "I miss being able to just sit out and enjoy nights like these," she said, looking up at Gene.

"Why don't you?" he asked, not taking his eyes from the night sky; the path of a launching ship still glowed in the darkness.

"Lots of reasons. The biggest being the fact that I'm working during the night, and don't get time to enjoy it like I did when I was little."

"That makes sense," Gene said. "Shame, though," he said, grinning wickedly down at her. "You look amazing in the moonlight."

"You're still ugly."

Gene rolled his eyes and said nothing for a while. "I don't have to cut your wages, you know," he finally grumbled.

"Then don't. Apparently, you're broke, and need all the money you can get. I've got jobs coming in left and right daily."

Gene paused, frowning. He wasn't sure whether or not she was bluffing, but either way, he couldn't really risk losing one hundred-fifty thousand wong. "Fine; you win," he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hitomi Toratora and Gene Starwind stood and stared at the night sky, studying the stars with green and blue eyes respectively. "Can I sleep with you tonight?" Hitomi asked, reaching in her pocket for her cigarettes.

Gene recoiled as if slapped, and started staring down at the odd Ctarl. "Oh, uhm, sure. Of course," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

" 'Kay." The Ctarl waited a moment, her tail swaying with the night breeze, before she turned back to Gene. "You wanna go back, then?"

Gene hid another grin as he let his eyes wander her lithe, young body again. "Sure, why not?" He slipped an arm around her waist, to which Hitomi reacted uneasily. He smiled, gently tugging her along. "We'll catch a cab, okay?" She nodded. Gene was impressed; he didn't think it was possible for someone to not only see him as being ugly, but he had underestimated his allure if even one such person would ask to sleep with him.

Hitomi pulled a cigarette from her pack, brought it to her lips, and fished in her pockets to find a lighter. She found it, and instinctively cupped her hand around the flame to protect it, as if it were precious, against the light breeze. As she brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette, she inhaled deeply, sucking in the first breath of smoke that she always loved.

Gene hugged her waist a little tighter, watching her long, slender fingers pluck the cigarette from her lips so she could exhale, a deep curtain of smoke pouring from her mouth. Gene made a soft, amused sound. "I didn't think anyone could make smoking sexy," he said, squeezing the young Ctarl's hip.

Hitomi looked up at him, brow furrowed. Gene let go and led her out of the park and waved down the first passing taxi he saw.

-

"Well, here we are," Gene Starwind announced, offering his hand to Hitomi as she swung her legs out of the cab. He was nearly tingling in anticipation; he had never slept with a Ctarl before, but he could just imagine it would be absolutely amazing. Hitomi had an incredible body: she was slender and curvy, with long limbs, a beautiful face, and pretty lips.

"Yeah," she agreed, taking his hand and allowing him to assist in pulling her up. Gene gently slid his arm around her waist again, leading her inside. He couldn't wait to have her body pressed firmly against his, warm skin against warm skin, sweat mixing with sweat. Hitomi yawned softly, and followed him inside. Mikoto and Jim were sitting on a couch, playing cards. "Hey," she greeted, walking over to join them. She plopped down behind Mikoto, snuggling into her limply.

Gene watched Hitomi for a moment, then frowned. "Are you coming to bed?" he asked.

"Hmm? Oh, I'm not tired yet. Later, I guess," she said, watching their game. "What're you playing?" she asked.

Gene didn't pay attention to the answer. Instead, he rubbed his temples and scolded himself for thinking that the gorgeous purple-haired Ctarl that went out with him just to reduce payments on their car actually wanted to sleep with him. He sighed and ruffled his hair, making his way into his bedroom.

Jim and Mikoto played for a little longer, then Jim announced he would be going to bed, and the Ctarl were welcome to spend the night; they would have their car back by the next afternoon.

"Well, how was your first date?" Mikoto asked, nudging Hitomi.

"He was ugly," she said, shrugging. "I think I'm gonna go to bed, too," she said, standing and stretching. She started walking towards the back, where the Terrans had gone.

"That's Jim's room," Mikoto told her.

"I know." With that, she opened the door, slipped in, and closed it on a surprised yelp from the blonde whose bed Hitomi would be sharing.


	5. A Job

**Backfire. A Job.**

The next morning, something unusual occurred in the Starwind/Hawking residence. Gene Starwind was awake by ten o'clock in the morning, and by ten-thirty, after hot coffee and pancakes, he was working on Mikoto Maramara's car. By eleven o'clock, he had the estimate worked out and the parts and services ordered, which would be in between noon and one o'clock. In the meantime, he worked on other, minor repairs that he wouldn't bother charging.

Jim Hawking, however, was still in bed while Gene was ordering parts. When Gene was greeting the deliveryman at the door at twelve-fifteen, he was just opening his eyes groggily. When those intelligent blue eyes that Hitomi Toratora had noted so fondly opened, he found that he wasn't alone in his small bed; he was sharing with (well, the bed was monopolized by) Hitomi Toratora, the pretty Ctarl who had gone on her first date the night before with his lecherous redheaded friend, Gene Starwind.

" 'Morning, little man," Hitomi purred, helping herself to more blankets. "I think Gene's out working on the car."

"Oh, uh, thanks," he said, slinking out from under his corner of blanket and scrambled to find any clothes that smelled decent enough to wear out to the living area. He grabbed a pair of pants, not bothering with shirts, and hurried out of the bedroom, passing Mikoto, who was reading a well-worn novel on the sofa, on the way. Mikoto nodded without taking her eyes from the book, and Jim made a small noise in the back of his throat to acknowledge her. "Gene?" he called out to the garage.

Gene's head poked out of the doorway, a pair of goggles protecting his eyes from sparks, presumably. "What?"

Jim looked back to the Ctarl on the sofa, and decided it would be best if he were to speak with Gene while they were a little closer. "It's…are we going to just let them live here while we work on their car? Mikoto has an old book, and I _know _it's not yours, you illiterate bastard, and it's not mine, and Hitomi's in Goddamn pajamas—"

Gene cut him off. "Come on, Jimmy, it's not like they're hurting us any."

"Oh no? Remember what feeding Aisha did to our funds? Now we have _two _Ctarl Ctarl, and I'm sure they would be just as happy to use up our money as Aisha was," Jim snapped.

Gene laughed. "Calm down. I spoke with Mikoto this morning. She's less…" Gene paused, searching for the most fitting word. "Insane. She's less insane than Hitomi," he said, shrugging. "She said that if they stay here while we fix the car, they'll feed themselves, and they can always get their own clothes to wear."

"Why do they think that they can stay here for that long?" Jim asked, clenching his jaw. He suspected he already knew why two Ctarl Ctarl in their physical prime would live with them until their car was repaired, which could take a few days.

"I offered," Gene answered, confirming Jim's fears.

"Shit, Gene!"

-

Gene Starwind worked for a few hours on the car, and came back inside for lunch. Hitomi and Mikoto were in the living room, and they had moved furniture to allow room for … sparring? They seemed to be too focused on each other to notice him enter, so he took the time to watch them for a while.

They threw fists at each other, seemingly without holding back, dodging and blocking fluidly. Not one punch landed on either girl, nor did any kick. Hitomi ducked under Mikoto's long, powerful leg as she attacked with a roundhouse kick, then countered with an uppercut that Mikoto caught and threw back at her, knocking Hitomi off-balance. Hitomi came back by leaping up, kicking twice at Mikoto's face, speed and power almost getting through the older girl's defenses, but Mikoto managed to bring her arms up quickly enough to block most of the force.

They paused, watching each other. Mikoto suddenly stood, ruffling Hitomi's hair. "Good job, kid," she said, looking over at Gene almost lazily. "Yeah?"

"I just came in for lunch," Gene said, frowning at his Ctarl guests. "You two…fight?"

"We're Ctarl," Mikoto reminded him, flashing her fangs with a wide grin. "If we're not fighting, we're stripping."

"Right," Gene mumbled. "Is Jim cooking?"

"No," Hitomi said. "He's playing on his computer, or something," she continued, shrugging. "But he did make us some sandwiches."

Gene frowned. "He didn't offer me anything."

"We're nicer than you are," Hitomi said. Mikoto laughed.

-

Gene Starwind had made a good amount of progress on the car by dinnertime. He felt rather pleased with himself; it felt good to actually get up relatively early and work for hours,

But that didn't mean that it would become a regular occurrence. Not at all.

Jim was still tinkering with his computer, and Hitomi and Mikoto had taken a bus home to gather a few things to prepare for staying the night; the young blonde wasn't as opposed to this as he had been that afternoon. In fact, he seemed to have made friends with the odd pair of Ctarl.

The outlaw made his way into the kitchen, his stomach growling loudly. He peeked into the 'fridge, but found little that wasn't spoiled. "Jim!"

"What?"

"Where the hell is the food?"

The younger Terran didn't answer for a few seconds. "It's your job to get food, Gene."

Gene paused as well. "But it's your job to make sure we have money for me to buy food."

"I _do _that job, Gene! You just take it all and spend it on women!"

Just then, as if on cue, Hitomi Toratora and Mikoto Maramara entered the warehouse with weapons strapped to their thighs. Hitomi had a long, curved sword, and Mikoto had two knives in ornate sheathes.

"I take it you're hungry?" Mikoto asked, purring at the redhead. Gene nodded. "Good. Give Hitomi half an hour, and we'll go someplace _swanky_. The four of us. We'll pay," she continued, putting her hands gently on his chest and looking up into his eyes.

"Have you been drinking?"

"A little."

Gene looked over to Hitomi, who shrugged blankly at the actions of her blue-haired friend. "Alright. I'll see you in half an hour," he said to her, eyeing the sword at her thigh.

The assassin grinned, took some money from her pocket for a bus, and left the outlaw with an idea as to what the Ctarl did for careers.

-

Scientists were important, Hitomi Toratora knew; they made some of the greatest discoveries of all time for all races from Terran to Ctarl to Silgrian. It was because of scientists that Terrans no longer needed to protect their inferior bodies from viruses like…what was it called? IDS? AIDS-that was it. It was also thanks to scientists that Hitomi had met Mikoto Maramara and her crazy gang of street fighters.

But Hitomi Toratora knew more important than scientists was money. Especially when one needed to pay for car repairs.

With that in mind, Hitomi perched in a tree branch that hung close to a window. She stretched her catlike body out, setting her feet silently on the almost impossibly thin ledge. She crept across the silent room after closing the window, and pressed her body firmly against the cold steel door. As she peered through the window, her hand slowly turning the handle, she listened for any sign of approaching building staff. When nothing came, she slipped through the barely-open door, making her way slowly down the halls according to the floor plans towards one Doctor Hensei's laboratory.

At each corner, she would stop and listen for anything; this was more of a stealth issue; the building was high-security. Just getting on the property had been hard. She couldn't afford to get caught now, when she was so close, and then the price on his head was so high. She didn't know what Hensei was working on, but it was something the client was adamant about when it came to stopping it. She reached the seventh floor without running into any security, though she had a close call in one stairwell; she had swung under the stairs and dug her fingers into the undersides to keep herself up out of sight of the chatting security guards. They had passed by just in time for her to drop down quietly without falling.

The skinny Ctarl made her way though the halls, glancing at the plaques on doors, searching for Hensei's lab. When she found it, she glanced in through a dirty window, covered in smudges and smears.

No one occupied the room but an old man. He wore a lab coat, his hair and face were greasy, and he still had pimples dusted across his chin. Hitomi nearly made a noise of surprise. No way that geezer could be the scientist she was looking for. She leaned in a little closer and squinted hard, trying to make out the name on the pin attached to the coat. It read "HINSEI;" but there was no way they could be one in the same.

She made a disgusted face and opened the door, not bothering with secrecy anymore. "Doctor Hensei?" she hissed, feeling nothing but pity for this man.

He seemed to panic for a second, then calm, as if this was expected. "Yes," he said, his voice tired and sad. "You're here for me with that sword," he continued, sighing.

Hitomi's eyes softened. "Yes."

"Well, I suppose that's not too surprising," the old man said, his features falling. "Just…make it quick, please. I don't want to make my wife wait any longer," he whispered.

The assassin's emotions stirred, creating a bubble of something like sadness in her gut. She nodded, and made her way over to him. "Are you ready?" she whispered back.

He sat up straight, smiling, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. "Yes. I am ready." The assassin gripped his chin and twisted, breaking his neck in one simple, fluid motion.

His body fell limp onto his desk, settling along his papers and his chemicals. She turned to leave then, after taking his nametag to prove to the client that her job was complete. Getting out of the building wouldn't be as tricky as getting in, but she still took caution to avoid any guards on her way out.

The little Ctarl grew cocky, however, and decided it would be fun to waltz out the front door. At nearly eleven o'clock, there was no way for someone to just remember a Ctarl; besides, the watchmen at the door would have changed from that morning. She grinned and found a hamper of dirty lab coats and slipped one on. As she walked, she pulled her hair up into a sloppy bun, just to make it look more work-friendly.

She was almost sorry she couldn't find a pair of glasses to match. With her hands in the coat pockets to pull it across her body, hiding her very unprofessional clothing, Hitomi almost looked as though she could pass as an employee. She smirked to herself mentally as she passed a guard and he did nothing but nod a curt greeting to her.

On the first floor, she yawned loudly, making sure the guards saw her. They did, and they eyed her in passing. "I've never seen you here," one commented.

"Hmm? Oh, I'm new. I just started this morning," she replied, smiling warmly at him.

Their brows furrowed. "We don't have anything on record about a Ctarl employee."

"They said something about that," Hitomi said, shrugging. "It should be fixed by tomorrow."

The guards hesitated, but waved her on. One, however, frowned. "Who said that it would get fixed?" Hitomi hesitated only for a moment.

"Heisen," she answered.

"You mean Hensei?" the guard corrected.

"Uh, yeah, him." The guard picked up a phone and punched in a few numbers. After a while, he hung up.

"Hensei isn't answering his phone." Hitomi began to panic at this. "You, go up and check on him," he ordered, looking down through dark sunglasses at the Ctarl. The guard nodded and left his post, leaving Hitomi alone with the other two men.

_Shit; I should have gone out the fucking window,_ Hitomi thought, tightening her jaw. Undoubtedly, they would find the body of the pimply old Terran just beginning its journey to becoming a skeleton, and then they would come down on her. She debated just attacking, killing the guards, and then running, but that would be messy. She'd also have to find all of the security cameras in the place and somehow make sure that they didn't send their images anywhere that mattered. Mikoto would kill Hitomi herself if that happened.

She waited to see what would happen. The phone rang mere minutes later, and Hitomi's sensitive ears could pick up the frantic tone of the guard in Hensei's lab. The guard behind the desk slammed the phone down onto its cradle and pulled his gun on Hitomi. "Freeze, you bitch!" Hitomi did as she was told, turning around to face the man.

With a small grin, she threw off her lab coat and snarled, flexing her long fingers. Her knuckles popped, her tail flicked, and a low growl resonated in her chest, warning them to leave her be, lest they lose some limbs. The guards recoiled a little, fully aware that their guns could do little more than agitate an attacking Ctarl…especially when she's just been called a bitch. "Get reinforcements," the man yelled.

Hitomi decided then would be a good time to start leaving; she crouched down and hissed, then leapt at the head security guard, flinching just barely as two bullets connected with her chest. Welts would appear later, but that didn't keep her from landing on the guard, digging her fingers into his throat, and ripping it out. His blood showered over her body, and she licked her lips clean.

The man gurgled as his blood flowed freely from the gaping hole in his neck. _I'm demanding double the fee, _Hitomi thought as she was shot again. The two other guards froze, their eyes widening in horror as the snarling assassin turned on them.

One turned to run away, and his partner emptied his gun's chamber into Hitomi's flesh as she pounced. One bullet grazed her cheek, piercing her ear. She shrieked, then landed on the guard, blood slowly trickling down from her wounded ear. It would heal, of course, but there would probably always be a nick in the furry flesh of her left ear.

As if in retribution, Hitomi hooked her short nails under his ears and tore his flesh off, his ears coming with it. As she straddled his chest to keep him from thrashing, the Ctarl gripped his head firmly and began pressing in on both sides. The guard screamed in agony until his skull shattered with a satisfying _crunch._

Hitomi didn't hesitate to leap from the guard and chase after the runner. She caught up to him easily, and wrapped her arms around his chest. She fell on top of him as he collapsed, and as she dug her knee into his spine she snapped his neck sloppily.

She could hear the rest of the guard force coming now, and she jumped up, scrambling to run all the way home if she needed to. She grabbed her lab coat without thinking, and ran out the front door.

"…Fuck!" Out to meet her were at least twenty armed guards. Panic took hold as she began fearing for her life. Desperation sent adrenaline through her body as her bones shifted and rearranged, in some places melting completely away, dulling the pain of the transformation as she spouted roars of fury.

She would need all of the money from the job to pay for food to replenish lost energy, and to replace her boots, which she had torn when she transformed. The snarling weretiger grabbed the lab coat and threw it over her back, then rushed at the guards as they opened fire on her.

She loved those boots; they were regulation combat boots that zipped up on the sides, with flaps to secure the zippers. She promised to reward herself with a nice pair, like the ones her friend Kione Brannen had a few years ago.

Bullets peppered Hitomi's shining, deep purple pelt, drawing tiny streams of blood from welts as she got closer. Her colors were rare—perhaps only a handful had been the royal purple before her, but none that she knew of had the purple with the ash-gray stripes that she had.

The giant tiger roared a challenge to the guards before leaping onto the closest. She leaned in even as he fell and tore into his throat. She jumped right from that guard to another, her claws piercing his stomach and slicing down to his entrails, which spilled out as he screamed in horror and blinding pain. As more shots fired at her shoulders, Hitomi whipped around, lashing out with razor-sharp teeth. Her jaws closed on nothing, but she saw the man shooting at her.

She bounded towards him, then dug her fangs into his thigh, tearing out a chunk and severing his femoral artery. More screamed pierced her amused thoughts of Jim, Gene, and Mikoto sitting on the couch, the boys playing video games and Mikoto reading her latest novel.

"Where's Hitomi?" Gene would ask, not taking his eyes from his game, his voice monotone. "I'm hungry," he would continue.

Mikoto would shrug nonchalantly, and Jim would swear as he lost to Gene.

Hitomi smirked mentally and tore away from the guards, bounding for the safety of the fence. Two men popped up in her view, but well-placed jaws to the hips and Achilles tendons make quick work of them.

Bullets continued to shower down around her, striking her flesh and raising welts, occasionally ripping holes into the lab coat, which she would need to hide her nakedness as she made her way home. The Ctarl trembled a little, her panic overwhelming as she thought of how she would manage to get over the barbed wire fence with fifteen men left shooting at her, and then get out to a bus stop. With her clothes gone, she didn't have any money or bus tokens to get her back; she would have to either steal or ask little old ladies.

Finally the bleeding, tired Ctarl leapt onto the fence, her toes curling into the links and her claws securing her grip. She scrambled up, bullets narrowly missing her as she ascended. She reached the top with one or two more welts, and managed to force her way through the barbed wire. She earned more scratches for it, but she managed to fall through and land clumsily on her feet, the now tattered lab coat still on her back. She gripped it in her mouth and ran off, bullets still chasing her through the fence.

-

Hitomi padded back into Starwind and Hawking with nearly two hundred thousand wong in her pocket, and her skin exposed under her tattered lab coat. She grinned as Mikoto raised an eyebrow, and both males stared, eyes wandering. "I got double the fee," she informed them.


	6. A Story

**Backfire. A Story.**

"Here's to repairing cars for less than expected," Mikoto Maramara called, raising her glass of sparkling cider. Of course, the entire bottle was available to her, but it was more … civilized to drink from the glass.

"Cheers," Hitomi repeated, touching her own beverage, a creamy, delicious hot chocolate made from a famous Silgrian chocolateer.

Jim and Gene, with their soda and beer respectively, joined the Ctarl in touching glasses. Gene was a little put-off that two Ctarl were paying for his dinner, but he felt as though he would be much, much more appreciative when it came to Jim bitching about the bills getting paid.

Jim was uncomfortable at being taken out to dinner by two assassins (after seeing the weapons, watching the news on recent murders, and having Hitomi come back naked just half an hour after one was committed, it wasn't hard at all to figure out their professions). But, he supposed, Suzuka was an assassin, and she was perfectly agreeable. Hitomi and Mikoto seemed alright, as long as he didn't have to live with them. And, with their car repaired, he saw that wouldn't be an issue. So he was content to sit back and enjoy his meal of king crab legs and fresh lobster.

He wasn't sure what kind of abomination Hitomi and Mikoto were eating, but they claimed it was some kind of Ctarl Ctarl "delicacy" caught only by the best fishermen during one month out of the year. Whatever it was, it smelled like rotting cat.

"So what're you two ladies doing after dinner?" Gene asked, alcohol on his breath.

Hitomi answered almost instantly: "I'm going to curl up with Moose and sleep." Jim wasn't surprised; the purple-haired Ctarl was absolutely covered in welts and bruises. She was lucky that she got off with so little damage; a high-security lab like the one she'd been hired to take care of was definitely sure to carry armor-piercing bullets. Those were one of the few kinds that would actually penetrate Ctarl skin, and he was sure that she knew both of those things.

But she had done a good job hiding any damage, except for the nick in her ear, which she had stitched up carefully to avoid suspicion. She had donned a pretty green dress that complimented her hair and eyes; it had a classic cut that covered most of her damaged areas, and thin, flowing sleeves to hide her wounded arms and hands. Mikoto had gone for something less conventional: a decorative navy corset covered in stitched flowers from the Ctarl home planet, and leather pants. Both wore knee-high boots, covered in buckles. Jim supposed there was no escaping … "alternative" taste.

He and Gene had merely pulled on dress shirts and jackets, sloppily tied on ties, and brushed their hair. Still, they certainly looked on par with their Ctarl companions.

"And you two ragamuffins?" Mikoto asked, her breath also coated with the bitterness of alcohol. "What're you gonna do when you leave?"

Jim shot a glance to Gene, warning him with a harsh glare that he had better keep any of his usual pick-up lines to himself. "We're going to go home and get ready for work tomorrow," he answered for both businessmen.

Gene waved his hand dismissively. "Jim, you're as boring as Melfina was."

Jim froze and paled. Of course, as assassins, Ctarl, and women, Hitomi and Mikoto felt the change in the atmosphere with the mention of that name. A glance at Jim's blushing cheeks was all the confirmation they needed. "Melfina?" Hitomi asked gently.

"She's…she was a bio-android," Jim answered simply.

"Was?" Hitomi looked to Mikoto, who shrugged. Bio-androids couldn't die. Their bodies could be destroyed, of course, but as long as their "brains" were kept in tact, they could be remade. Even if that "brain" wasn't useable, they couldn't die, since they weren't alive in the first place. "Whaddya mean?"

Jim looked to Gene, who was busy flagging down a waiter for another drink as he finished off the rest of his bottle greedily. He sighed, and answered: "We used to travel with her. She was a crucial part of our navigations system, but she…ran off about two years ago."

"Why?" Mikoto asked.

"Enough!" Gene shouted. "She just left, okay? That's _all _you need to know." He stood from his seat and left, heading in the direction of the front door.

Jim frowned. "He and Melfina were an item," he explained with a limp shrug.

"What, y'mean they were gettin' it on?" Hitomi asked through a mouthful of her Ctarl rotting-cat-soup. Mikoto regarded her with an amused but stern glare.

"In…so few words, yeah, they were," Jim replied, blushing. "But they really cared about each other, too, so Gene's not happy when people ask why she left. Even he doesn't know. She up and left without a word."

"Did he try to find her?" Mikoto asked, pouring herself another tall glass of her cider.

"Yeah, for a while," Jim said.

"Then he obviously didn't care that much about her," the elder Ctarl said casually with a shrug. "If he cared about her as much as you say he did, he'd have looked until he found her."

Jim was speechless for a moment before he grew angry. "He _did _care about her!" he snapped. "We all did! But they left us, too," he murmured, dropping his gaze.

"Who left you?" Mikoto pushed, raising her voice to match the young Terran's.

"Two others: a Ctarl Ctarl, and an assassin. They left us for different reasons; Aisha left because the Empire finally let her come back after she lead them to the…to something they were looking for, and Suzuka left for personal reasons that she didn't tell us about," Jim said, poking at his lobster shell with a fork before going about breaking the second claw off and digging for the meat.

Hitomi was quiet for a moment, but ruffled his hair. "They miss you," she said.

"How do you know?" Jim asked, pushing her hand away with his shell-covered, buttery hand.

"That's how people normally are."

-

"Well," Mikoto said as she unpacked her things into her dresser. "That was certainly interesting."

Hitomi looked up at her older friend from a magazine that she was scanning for pictures for the wall of Pretty Things. "Mreh?"

"Those Terrans, and their life drama?" Mikoto reminded her friend. They were both in pajamas now, and in Mikoto's room, listening to some music that they had picked up on their way home.

"Oh, yeah," the younger girl agreed. "I almost feel bad for them," she admitted as she tore out a page of a model with pretty eyes.

"I don't," Mikoto snapped. "That asshole Gene tried to take advantage of us, and Jim is just a child," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You can't feel sorry for anyone or anything, Hitomi, you know that," she scolded.

Hitomi waved her hand dismissively in response. "Yeah, yeah; I know. But … I dunno. That kid was nice. He makes good sandwiches."

Mikoto rolled her eyes and went back to unpacking. "I'm looking for a job for us. Something big this time. Maybe a corporate hit, or something that'll take us to another planet," Mikoto said, folding some pants hastily.

"Hey, you remember that hit I had on … uhm, Rhiannon?" Hitomi asked.

"How could I forget?" Mikoto replied with a grin. That hit had taken Hitomi a month to crack into security, get herself into proximities with Rhiannon, and then get out with her life after killing one of the most paranoid businessmen in the galaxy. All in all, it was an amazing job, and Mikoto had been very proud of her little Hitomi for her prowess and insanity working together to make it a perfect ordeal. "Hopefully, we'll find something with that kind of money, so we can go to another planet and find better deals," she said. "Like Heiphong; they're notoriously expensive because of all the businesses there. There's sure to be _lots _of jobs for us."

"But we don't have a ship. How would we get there?"


End file.
